


Under the Mistletoe

by shotofvanilla



Series: See You... [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Character, Christmas, M/M, blind!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotofvanilla/pseuds/shotofvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas' Christmas spirit is a little lacking, and Dean sets about rectifying that as best he can.</p><p>a.k.a. about 2000 words of Christmas nonsense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Bajo el Muérdago](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418710) by [HeyDagger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyDagger/pseuds/HeyDagger)



> Chronologically, this takes place shortly after part 2, "In the Breaths Between."

In the years that have passed, Castiel has found that he cares less and less for the winter holidays. He thinks of it as a side effect of growing up, but he knows a large part of it also has to do with being blind.

He knows that Christmastime is about more than just strings of light and trees with funny decorations on them, and of course there's the whole thing about the spirit of family and giving and being thankful. But family Christmases have always been solemn, awkward affairs even when he and his siblings were children, filled with candles and Church hymns and too many gifts that were more useful than they were fun.

It's not any better now. Now, whenever he decides to go home for the holidays, the air is filled with pity that time cannot seem to wear away. His mother dotes on him too much, fussing constantly, and his father never seems to have anything to say that isn't immediately critical, so he keeps relatively silent in light of Cas' "condition," as they still sometimes call it. His siblings are more comfortable around him, but because of their parents they tend to revert back to walking on eggshells around him, and they always end up forcing themselves to make small talk in the living room, since they all feel awkward about turning on the TV or popping in a movie, no matter how many times Cas has said he doesn't mind. His parents never know what to give him, so he ends up with far too many sweaters in neutral tones and thick books in braille that, honestly, he often doesn't have the time or patience to read. And he never really knows what to get anyone in his family either, because shopping, even online, is unsurprisingly difficult when deprived of sight.

So usually he begs out of returning home, saying he has classes or work or the airfare is too expensive, and he can almost hear a collective sigh of relief from them even as they try and convince him to visit. His parents still send him sweaters and books, though Anna, Balthazar, and Gabriel have all gotten better about the gift giving without the threat of their parents breathing down their necks, and so now they send him things like homemade scarves (Anna) or liquor (Balthazar) or other items he wouldn't dare open in front of his parents (Gabriel, always Gabriel).

He's used to spending the holidays alone, or buried in textbooks, or picking up extra shifts at the bookstore he sometimes works at. He's perfectly content doing so, and he doesn't let himself get maudlin about it. Sometimes he and few of the other grad students stranded at school on holiday will go out to drink away their sorrows, but that's usually the worst of it.

This year is different though. This year, Dean, who was appalled when he heard of how Cas spent the holidays, is determined to recreate the lost Christmas spirit for his boyfriend as best he can. He's not going home either, because his brother, like Cas, is stuck at school ("Stanford Law," Dean always says, and Cas wishes he could see the pride he hears in his voice), and so it doesn't seem worth it to drive all the way back to Kansas just to spend a week or two with his mom and dad.

And so Dean shows up to Cas' apartment on the late morning of Christmas Eve, armed with bags full of supplies and the announcement that they are not to leave the apartment at least until tomorrow. He refuses to tell Cas the exact contents of the bags, putting them in the kitchen after their customary hello kiss.

Cas is still in his pajamas, having only gotten up to Dean's morning text an hour or so before, and when he tries to go and change into something more suitable for the day, Dean wraps an arm around him and traps him there for a second, smiling and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It's Christmas," he whispers. "PJ's, Cas."

"You're not in PJ’s," Cas argues, leaning into Dean's embrace a little.

"Not yet."

As it turns out, Dean's packed himself a pair of pajamas to change into, soft flannel and an old worn out t-shirt that smells faintly of an autoshop. Cas still tries to escape to the bedroom, at least to put on a warmer sweater, but then there's the rustle of paper and plastic and something soft and woolen is pushed into his hands. "I got you covered," Dean says.

Cas can't see, but he can practically _feel_ how ugly the sweater in his hands is. He traces his fingers over raised stitching and sewn in buttons and dear god, are those _bells_ he hears, and smiles before pulling the sweater over his head. It's too big for him, lumpy and saggy in odd places, but it's soft and smells a little like Dean. It's not like he's ever really cared about his appearance before anyway.

He reaches a hand out, feeling for Dean's face and swiping a finger over his lips, feeling the way their pressed tightly together in a suppressed smile. He leans in for a quick kiss, both of them laughing together, the sound bubbling in the space between them and rising into the air.

They stay pressed against each other in the kitchen for a while; a playful kiss taking a slow turn into deeper, much more interesting places before Dean is quickly pulling away, laughing despite Cas' apparent annoyance. "Later," he promises. "Right now I have to bring back Christmas."

He leads Cas into the living room and sets about doing...something. Under strict instructions, he stays on the couch, listening as Dean bustles around his apartment, taking items out of his bags and putting them throughout the room. He's desperately curious to figure out exactly what Dean's planning, but instead he sits and traces over the pattern on his new sweater, trying to ascertain exactly what is on it.

"Is this...a snowman?" Cas asks, looking in Dean's direction.

There's a pause. "It's a very cute snowman."

"Why are there bells?"

"It's wearing a necklace."

"That sounds awful."

"Well, that's the point of an ugly sweater, isn't it? Besides, _you_ look very handsome in it."

"Ha ha. Do you have one?"

Dean's hesitation is enough of an answer. Cas gets to his feet and roots through Dean's overnight bag until he comes up with something soft and lumpy. He all but forces the sweater over Dean's head and is delighted to learn that it has a picture of a reindeer on it, with Christmas lights tangled up in its antlers. Best of all, it apparently lights up.

Cas has never so desperately wished to be able to see a particular article of clothing before.

They're interrupted by a long lunch break, which consists mainly of pizza and an impromptu make out session on the couch, which really only ends because Dean can't kiss him seriously when he feels like the snowman on Cas' sweater is judging him. Cas says that's his own fault then, for buying the sweater in the first place.

Dean resumes his task and Cas settles back on the couch and actually starts reading one of the books he received at Christmas a few years ago, and to his surprise he finds that he actually likes it a fair bit. It takes him a long time to read because his braille reading skills are a bit rusty, what with his preference towards audio books, but it's still enjoyable. While he does so he listens with half a mind toward Dean, who's started humming Christmas music under his breath.

Cas is about a third, maybe halfway through the book, right when the main character's met a fallen star, when he hears Dean tinkering about in the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and pans and such. He strains to listen, trying to figure out what Dean is making, but all he can hear is the soft thump of ingredients hitting a bowl and the scrape of a whisk.

There's the close of the oven door, and after a few minutes the scent of sugar and vanilla starts floating out into the air, homey and familiar. Cas rises and goes to the kitchen, maybe to steal some cookie dough, maybe just to be near Dean, but he's quickly ushered back to the couch, Dean murmuring a soft, "Not yet," as he kisses Cas' cheek.

Slightly disgruntled and just a little bit excited, Cas returns to his book about a man and the fallen star. Dean returns to the kitchen, putting a pot on the stove and taking out, or maybe putting things in, Cas' fridge.

The day wears on, and at some point Dean emerges from the kitchen to put one of his many records on the player. Out of the old speakers plays soft, crackly Christmas songs, classics and instrumentals, none of the overprocessed stuff that plays over the radios all the time now. Cas can sense the light changing outside, early in the winter as always, and turns a lamp on, more out of habit than real necessity.

Dean busies himself in the kitchen for a long while, taking the cookies out while still stirring something that smells of chocolate and cream on the stove. Cas would much prefer it if Dean was with him on the couch, but as it is, it's still the best Christmas he's ever had in a long while.

Besides, it's only a little while later that Dean finally emerges from the kitchen and places a tray down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Cas can hear the plates shifting and can smell the scent of fresh cookies and caramelized sugar. Before sitting on the couch, he hears Dean walk around the room and the strike of matches, and suddenly the air is filled also with the woodsy smell of pine and he realizes that, in lieu of a Christmas tree, Dean's gone out and bought candles instead.

It's strangely overwhelming, all the little details adding up in Cas' head. "White Christmas," plays over the record player's speakers, there's a wonderfully horrible sweater against his skin, cookies waiting to be eaten on a plate, and the whole room smells of vanilla and evergreens. It feels like the sort of Christmas Cas thought only existed in fantasy and cliché movies, and he can't help but take Dean's hand and raise it to his lips when Dean sits down across from him on the couch.

"Cookies?" Cas asks, words mumbled against Dean's knuckles.

"And hot chocolate." Dean pulls away to press a warm mug into his hands. "I also bought eggnog, if you prefer."

"We haven't had dinner yet."

"This _is_ dinner," Dean says as he also gives Cas a cookie. It's buttery and cinnamon-y and sort of melts in Cas' mouth, and he washes it down with the rich hot chocolate, which tastes ever so slightly of peppermint. There's even whipped cream on the top that clings to his lips, which Dean takes pleasure in kissing away.

They sit on the couch, listening to Christmas music and eating way too many cookies to be healthy, and at one point Cas asks if they aren't going to be horribly sick later, and Dean just says that that's sort of a part of the tradition.

The record comes to an end just as they finish the plate of cookies, and when Dean gets up to change it he pulls Cas to his feet as well. With new music playing he takes Cas' hand, spinning him slowly before wrapping him in his arms and swaying gently next to the couch. It takes Cas a second to realize what's going on.

"Dancing, Dean? Really?"

"Shut up, I'm being romantic."

Cas laughs a little before falling silent. He leans in, pillowing his cheek against Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes pointlessly and breathing in everything about the day and the room and Dean. Wonderful Dean, who's recreated a perfect Christmas just for him. They had agreed to no gift exchange this year, but Cas knows this is Dean's way of cheating and giving him something anyway.

"This is nice," he murmurs.

"I told you it was romantic."

"Mm, shut up you're ruining it."

Dean laughs deep in his chest and Cas relishes the feeling of it. He runs a hand down Dean's arm until he can fit their fingers together, and then he smiles, warm and quietly joyful.

"Would it make it any better if I told you I've covered the entire ceiling with mistletoe?"

Cas' smile grows teasing and he lifts his head to stare at Dean as best he can. "Really?"

He can sense Dean nodding. "Mmhm. Absolutely covered. Mistletoe from wall to wall."

"How do I know that's not just a lie to steal kisses from me?"

Dean shrugs. "You don't, really. I guess you just have to kiss me out of good faith. You know it's bad luck not to."

And Cas does know, so he lets Dean steal all the kisses he wants, and he steals a few for himself too.

Outside, the sky grows colder, snow starting to fall in soft flurries to the ground. But inside, it stays perfectly warm all through the night.


End file.
